


Restraining Order

by Bigcheecho



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bombing, F/M, Revolution, Shooting Guns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigcheecho/pseuds/Bigcheecho
Summary: After the Japanese Revolution swept away the Empire and its corrupt defenders, its crosshairs pointed at the criminal gangs that profited off imperial corruption. The revolution’s wrath saw the Kuzuryuu clan dismantled just as all the other clans were. Though Fuyuhiko, Natsumi, and Peko dodged execution, the soil they once stood upon shattered.Special thanks to shcherbatskayas for proofreading.





	1. Chapter 1

On the wall stood the emblem of the Republic - a hammer & torch crossed over the rising sun, standing at almost twice the height of the judge in front of it. Facing them to the left was the prosecution staff led by Kiyotaka Ishimaru, hand-picked by the Directory themselves. To the judge’s right were three defendants: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, Natsumi Kuzuryuu, and Peko Pekoyama, all in handcuffs. There was no attorney present for them despite the Republic’s obligation to grant one; the three of them refused both out of defiance and out of hopelessness.

 

Sweat poured from Fuyuhiko’s forehead as his eyes were glued to the judge. He grabbed a stack of papers, turned them upright, dropped them gently on the edges of the table to align them, and sent them back down to the stand, just behind the nameplate labeled _Yoshirou Fujimori, Chief Judge_. Judge Fujimori thumbed one of the papers, glanced at it, and looked back up towards the court with little emotion in his expression.

 

“Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu has pled guilty to all charges. Due to his cooperation with the People’s Investigative Corps, his sentence shall be limited to 40 years in prison with parole.”

 

Fuyuhiko didn’t particularly care about his sentence. In complete honesty, he reveled in the revolution’s destruction of his clan; the pressure mounted on him as the heir apparent was often too much to take.

 

The judge continued. “Natsumi Kuzuryuu has pled guilty to all charges. Due to her cooperation with the People’s Investigative Corps, her sentence shall likewise be limited to 40 years in prison with parole.”

 

 _Thank God Natsumi played along._ Fuyuhiko saw what that pressure did to his sister as well; he was afraid that her sense of honor - her willingness to stand by the clan - would lead her to the gauntlet. One last thing bounced around in Fuyuhiko’s nervous head, amplified by the suspenseful silence of the court.

 

“Peko Pekoyama has been found not guilty by reason of insanity.” Fuyuhiko’s last bits of anxiety vanished the moment “not guilty” was uttered by the judge. _Her_ getting _executed_ was his biggest fear of the trials - nay, the revolution entirely. It wasn’t _her_ fault that his parents fucked her up. _Damn them_ . If nothing else, he was relieved in knowing that Peko wouldn’t be punished for his parents’ actions; _they_ , on the other hand, got to be stuffed with lead and buried in the Pacific.

 

The judge had more to say. “Due to her condition, she shall be placed under the supervision of the Ministry of Health indefinitely. In addition, a restraining order prohibiting all contact between her and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu as well as an order prohibiting all contact between her and Natsumi Kuzuryuu shall be put in place. Both restraining orders may only be repealed with the consent of both parties, the Ministry of Health, and the Ministry of Security.”

 

Fuyuhiko took a moment to talk to himself as the last few formalities were conducted by the judge. _They’re separating us. Fuck, this is a tough pill to swallow, but… Peko could use this. I’ve spent the past two decades trying to tell her that she’s a living, breathing, thinking human being. Why didn’t she fucking get it? Have I been saying the wrong things this whole time? Did I fuck her over just by having her on my side?_

 

_I would do anything, a-ny-thing for her to understand her worth. If I can’t do it, then... the least I can do is stay out of the way and give these fuckers a chance._

 

_But Lord, if you’re up there, please, let me see Peko when she appreciates herself._

 

“Any last statements from the prosecution?”

 

The prosecution staff looked amongst each other and Ishimaru responded by shaking his head. They’ve already said enough throughout the trial.

 

“From the defense?”

 

Fuyuhiko got up and glanced at the judge. The judge nodded and Fuyuhiko made his way to the stand. He took a deep breath and looked Peko in the eyes.

 

“Just- Peko, please, don’t come back for me. Go out, live your life, and be yourself. You have no obligations to me.”

 

“But, young master- ”

 

Fuyuhiko shut his eyes, clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and flung his desperation out. “That’s an _order,_ Peko.”

 

The courtroom fell back into dead silence - that same dead silence Fuyuhiko remembers from every last victim of Peko’s brought about under his family’s _orders_ . That word - _order_ \- was his absolute last resort, the trump card he prayed wouldn’t be needed every last second before he stabbed her with that disgusting word. _That’ll be the last order Peko receives, so help me God._

 

Fuyuhiko turned to the judge. “Thank you, judge.” He slumped to his seat.

 

“Any other final statements?” Nobody dared to stand. “Then the court is dismissed.”

 

Two Ministry of Security officers held the Kuzuryuus by their forearms after they stood up to be escorted. A third removed Peko’s handcuffs and, alongside a Ministry of Health consultant, prepared to escort Peko out of the courtroom. The three of them walked out through the door in the back; the Kuzuryuus turned left, and Peko turned right.

 

_I hope she’ll be alright._

 

* * *

 

“Finally, the former heir apparent of the Kuzuryuu clan, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, has been found guilty on 274 charges including murder, human trafficking, bribery, and numerous other crimes. However, due to his crucial cooperation with the People’s Investigative Corps, he has been granted a reduced sentence of 40 years in prison with parole.

 

The Directory issued a statement commending the People’s Investigate Corps, the Ministry of Security, and the Revolutionary Guard for their service in the war against corruption. Long live the Republic!”

 

The television switched from the newscast to a public service announcement already heard by Japan a hundred times. Dr. Miaya Gekkogahara mostly kept the television on as background noise for her work whenever she wasn’t in session. The long, bloody civil war that shattered the Empire made her one of the Republic’s elite soldiers against the traumas of war, widowhood, and orphanship. It was modest work, but the difference she made in her clients was enough to preserve her optimism in the face of revolution.

 

A knock came on her door. Through the peephole was a clean-shaven, middle-aged man with a kepi fronted by the Republic’s emblem.

 

_People’s Administration? I already submitted my reports to the Ministry of Health a few days ago. Did I miss something?_

 

Miaya cracked the door open. “Hello. Did you need something?”

 

“Dr. Gekkogahara, right?”

 

“That’s me.”

 

“May I come in?”

 

“Certainly.”

 

Miaya let the bureaucrat in and offered him one of the big, comfy chairs in her session room. They both took a seat and faced each other. Miaya saw the bureaucrat holding a sealed booklet with “Client Information” on its cover alongside a manila folder containing “Therapist Documents” etched in ink on the front.

 

“Have I received a new client?”

 

“Indeed. As you likely know well by now, I’m not allowed to look inside the client’s documentation, so I can’t tell you much more than that. The Ministry of Health has scheduled your sessions for 2 p.m. every Friday, starting next Friday. Is that suitable?”

 

Miaya opened her appointment book to check, and saw nothing scheduled for Friday at 2 p.m. “That works for me.”

 

“Very well. We just have a few papers for you to sign.” The bureaucrat slid the _Therapist Documents_ folder to Miaya, which contained the same red tape it always did. Miaya double checked each paper by ritual more so than anything else and signed her name on each signature line before handing the folder back to the bureaucrat. The bureaucrat, in turn, laid the _Client Information_ booklet on her desk and headed to the door.

 

“I’ll take my leave, then.”

 

“Thanks. Have a nice day.”

 

Miaya waited until the door was shut before breaking the booklet’s seal and turning to the first page. The first thing she noticed was the picture of a young-looking woman with scarlet red eyes, silver hair tied into twin braids with red ribbons, and an expression fit for a poker table.

 

“Name: Pekoyama, Peko” - _that was a pretty name._

 

“Date of Birth: unknown” - _wait a second, unknown?_ Revolution looked like a pipe dream the last time Dr. Gekkogahara saw _“unknown”_ written for a client’s birthday. She took a mental note of that.

 

“Bio: As an infant, Peko Pekoyama was kidnapped by the Kuzuryuu yakuza organization and raised to be a hitman and bodyguard for the organization’s heir apparent, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. Her upbringing saw her taught to suppress virtually all emotion and independent thought - in her own words, ‘a tool’.”

 

The booklet dug deeper into her past, laying out every tale of murder, every abuse in her upbringing, and every statement on her the People’s Investigative Corps dug out from the trials. Miaya couldn’t bring herself to read the whole thing at once; she’d get up, take some breaths, and pace around the room every few pages.

 

_God, what did they do to her?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout-out to shcherbatskayas for proofreading my drafts!


	2. Chapter 2

“40 years with parole, huh?” Mondo Oowada let out a chuckle at the Kuzuryuu siblings. “That’s a hell of a wait.”

 

Mondo sat across from them in the cafeteria, between Kazuichi Souda and Ryoma Hoshi. The five of them shared the same breakfast of rice, miso soup, grilled salmon, tsukemono, and tea - surprisingly decent for a prison meal. The room, though not large, was respectably sized and filled up with other prisoners.

 

Mondo gave the siblings another look. “You have anything planned for when you’re out?”

 

“Fuck if I know. They’ll probably have robots doing everything by the time we’re done,” Natsumi replied.

 

Fuyuhiko nodded. “Pretty much. You have any plans?”

 

Mondo took a moment to look up at the national emblem on the wall and process his response before looking back at them. “Think I’ll settle down and start a bike shop. Getting any clans reorganized after the trials is probably a hopeless cause.” Mondo smiled and grabbed Kazuichi by the shoulder. “I’d love for you to join me; you really know your shit about this!”

 

Kazuichi jumped from his seat and gave Mondo a confused look, eyes squinting and mouth dropping open before speaking. “What do you mean? When I get out, I’m going to marry Princess Sonia and become the Prince of Novoselic!”

 

The other four fell into a hearty laugh. “See? You’ve got a great sense of humor too, Kaz! Our customers will love us for it!”

 

Kazuichi huffed. “Well, who  _ else  _ would she marry?”

 

“Considering she’s  _ literal fucking royalty _ ,” Natsumi chirped, “probably her cousin.”

 

“The hell did you even get locked up for anyways?  _ Being a dumbass? _ ” Fuyuhiko cackled.

 

“What? No!” Before Kazuichi could stop himself, he added “I designed chemical weapons for the Empire!”

 

The four of them fell silent, as well as all the other prisoners within earshot of Kazuichi. The other groups gave Kazuichi a look before slowly turning back to their discussions. On the other hand, Fuyuhiko, Natsumi, Mondo, and Ryoma all kept their stares locked towards Kazuichi.

 

“I… don’t want to talk about it. I was desperate.” Kazuichi took another deep breath before shifting the subject. “What did you guys get sent here for?”

 

“The three of us - me, Nats, and Mondo - pretty much got sent here because we were in the yakuza,” Fuyuhiko replied.

 

“ _ In the yakuza? _ ” Natsumi asked rhetorically with an annoyed squint in her face. “You were the  _ heir _ to the fucking Kuzuryuu clan, you dumb shit. Don’t act like it’s nothing.”

 

“Fine. What about you, Ryoma?” Fuyuhiko turned his eyes towards him.

 

“When I was in the Revolutionary Guard, I saw an officer mistreating a lady, so I shot him. Court-martial sent me here. Hold on, though - didn’t they execute most of the top yakuza brass?”

 

“They did,” Natsumi stated. “Difference is we sang to the PIC like songbirds.”

 

Ryoma smirked at Natsumi’s bluntness. “Smart, but why?”

 

“Well, I was worried that my dumbfuck brother would keep his mouth shut and get himself shot. Realistically speaking, the clan was gone regardless; we are one of the Republic’s favorite scapegoats, as you could’ve seen from the goons they hung on fucking meat hooks a few years ago. Thus, I saw it as my duty to keep our family name alive.”

 

“Was it really scapegoating, though?” Mondo asked in response. “Last I remember, your pops had half the Diet on his payroll before this whole revolution started.”

 

“True, but find me a government that isn’t on somebody’s payroll on this bitch of an Earth and I’ll eat my own ass.”

 

Ryoma sought to step in. “Who’s bankrolling the Assembly, then? The only other organization I can think of that can finance a large-scale bankrolling effort are the zaibatsus, who also got shredded by the Republic.”

 

“Fuck if I know. Probably the damn yanks or some shit like that.”

 

Ryoma snickered. “Sure thing. Anyways, what about you, Fuyuhiko? I imagine you had similar reasons.”

 

“Yeah, more or less. I was worried my sister would confess and that I’d be the only dumbfuck left, so I did what I could to at least keep the family name alive.”

 

Natsumi eyeballed Fuyuhiko and gave him a  _ look _ . “Come on, boss baby, there’s more to it than that.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _ You know. _ ”

 

_ She’s talking about Peko, isn’t she? _

 

“Fine, I’ll admit it. I was also worried that Peko would be dragged in here with us, or better yet… ”  _ Executed. Shot into a ditch and buried from the world’s memory without even a chance of showing the world her true self. _ “I can’t even bring myself to say it. I’m glad she wasn’t found guilty,  _ because she fucking isn’t,  _ and I hope the damn eggheads from the Ministry of Health give her the chance I couldn’t.”

 

Mondo nodded in understanding. “I was about to ask what happened to her, as a matter of fact. I could always tell you cared a ton about her.”

 

“I  _ still _ care about her, Mondo. I can’t just not be worried about her, even with the restraining order they slapped on us.” Fuyuhiko felt tears welling up in his eyes.  _ Hold it the fuck in. _

 

Mondo could tell Fuyuhiko was upset and softly grabbed his shoulder to comfort him. “There’s no shame in that, Fuyuhiko. She’s your friend.”

 

“I know, just… ”  _ Friend? I have no damn right to call her a friend. _ “I hate how I left her.”  _ I left her with an order. Not a goodbye, not an “I love you,” not even a “thanks.” An order. _ “Just…” Fuyuhiko could tell he was crying. He put his head down and slammed his fist into the table. 

 

_ Fuck me.  _

 

The memory of the trial replayed itself in Fuyuhiko’s head. He couldn’t help but be incensed at that man on the stand, the one who had the gall to order Peko when her last chains were about to be shattered.

 

_ Fuck me!  _

 

The words played themselves again - “That’s an order, Peko.” They continued, louder and louder in a crescendo, deafening Fuyuhiko to the rest of the world around him.

 

“That’s an order, Peko.”

 

_ “That’s an order, Peko.” _

 

_ Fuck! Me! _

 

* * *

 

Peko sat in a soft chair next to a Ministry of Health bureaucrat wearing a standard white-collar outfit with the usual bureaucrats’ kepi containing the emblem. Both sat in their chairs stiffly, glancing at anything and everything in the small room that wasn’t the other person. The room itself had a small clock hanging on the wall with the minute hand between the 11 and the 12 and the hour hand just behind the 2; a water machine with a red “hot” valve and a blue “cool” valve, half full, with a stack of small, white paper cups next to it; a counter with a big, black bowl of various candies, a few wooden clipboards, and a single shelf containing brochures and business cards; and a few other large chairs, all of which were empty.

 

The door to the left opened and Miaya peeked her head out. “Is Peko Pekoyama here?”

 

Peko turned her head towards the bureaucrat while he stood up. “That’s indeed her. She’s all yours, doctor. I’ll be back in an hour; take your time.” He left through the door on his right as Peko watched before turning her gaze towards the doctor.

 

“Mind following me, Peko?”

 

Peko stood up and followed Miaya down the hallway. There were doors on each end of the hallway, all fairly alike in appearance with a dark brown wooden texture and a metallic grey doorknob. Miaya opened the second door to the left,  _ Room 2, _ with a certificate stating “Dr. Miaya Gekkogahara, Ph.D.” just under the room label. Peko walked in and took a look around the room, still standing. Miaya followed closely behind her.

 

“If you’d like, feel free to take a seat.”

 

Peko took a seat in the beige couch, just across from two gigantic chairs with a small round table in between. Peko folded her hands, sent her shoulders back, and sat up stiff as a twig as Miaya took her seat comfortably in the big chair to the left.

 

“So, Peko,” Miaya began, letting out a soft smile and tilting her head. “How are you?”

 

_ I’m a tool that’s been thrown away. Why would Fuyuhiko order me to go against my purpose? Doesn’t he know I’d give my life for him? They took me in, and I was the one who would protect him - an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. He was supposed to be the heir, the one to bring the clan to soaring new heights while I stood by his side. Now? Now, there is no Kuzuryuu clan, no Fuyuhiko to stand by, and no purpose for me to serve. Useless, useless, useless. _

 

“Mediocre.”

 

“Mediocre? Why is that?”

 

“No specific reason.”

 

Miaya gave Peko a subtly incredulous look. 

 

_ I can see it in the doctor’s face; she knows that it’s much more than “no specific reason.” _

 

“Well, what brings you here, then?”

 

“Government orders.”

 

“How come?”

 

It was now Peko’s turn to offer that subtle, incredulous look. “I’m not sure if I can tell you.”

 

Miaya sighed. “Peko?”

 

“Yes, doctor?”

 

“Let me make myself clear. Nothing you say in here will be allowed to leave this room. There are no security cameras and no hidden guards - just me and you. My job, as your therapist, is to help you - nothing else. I know it can be nervewracking to talk to me for the first time, especially since I’m still a stranger to you. However, I will not judge and I will not speak a word of what happens in session; I will only do what I can to help you improve yourself. Please, don’t be afraid to tell me anything. 

 

With that said, let me ask again. What brings you here?”

 

_ Fuyuhiko’s last order was to not come back for him, to live out my life, and to be myself. “Myself” had always been his sword, his shield, and the guardian by his side, even if it meant my life. That’s not the “myself” he’s referring to. Will Fuyuhiko take me back if I find the “myself” he wants? Why am I even asking that? It’s his order, regardless. I have to find it. _

 

“Well… before the revolution, I was a bodyguard and hitman for the heir of a yakuza clan. The Republic’s purges destroyed the clan, put the heir I served into prison, and more or less ended my career. I feel… purposeless now. I’m not sure what to do with myself.”

 

Miaya nodded and her soft smile returned. “There’s nothing wrong with that. People tend to lose their sense of purpose when they lose their jobs. How long were you involved with the yakuza?”

 

“A while.”

 

“A while? Mind elaborating on what that means?”

 

_ Why is Dr. Gekkogahara prying so much from me? For all her talk about seeking to help, I’m not really sure what she wants. Will it help if I answer truthfully? ...Does she already know? _

 

“Years. I was pretty close with the family.”

 

“Hmm…” Miaya took a moment to think to herself “Sounds like it was a pretty significant part of your life, then. Am I correct?”

 

_ ShitshitshitItoldhertoomuchwhatdoIdowhatdoIdoIneedtoanswernow _

 

“...Yes, it was.”

 

“Then it’s natural to be unsure of where to go from here. A job makes up a major part of a person’s life; for most people, their job is part of their purpose. So, when they lose it, they lose part of the purpose they once had. The important thing here is to consider overall purpose - that is, purpose beyond simply work. Do you think you have a purpose beyond your former work with the yakuza?”

 

_ Purpose beyond work? Fuyuhiko was my purpose until he ordered me not to come back for him. I suppose I don’t have one right now. _

 

“I don’t.”

 

“I think that’ll be important for us to work out, then. Purpose is difficult for a lot of people, so I certainly don’t expect you to have it all figured out by next session. I’ve seen people spend their entire lives trying to discover their purpose, in complete honesty. That being said, I think beginning this process will go a long way for you.”

 

“Alright. Where do I start, then?”

 

“Think about what you care about and write down every answer you have to that. Don’t worry about having a single purpose locked down yet, especially at this point. We both have plenty of time.”

 

“What if I come up with something to do early?”

 

“Then feel free to try it, so long as it isn’t anything involving the yakuza. If you’re not sure if it’s alright, then feel free to bring it up with me next session. My job is to help you.”

 

“Thank you, then. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Peko got up from her seat and prepared to leave.

 

“One last thing, actually.” Peko turned around to face the therapist once again. “Remember that you are not the yakuza. You are you, and you owe nothing to anyone else. Actually, one more second.” Miaya took a post-it note and wrote something down before handing to Peko. “I think you should take this and put it somewhere you’ll see it every day, perhaps next to your bed or the bathroom mirror.”

 

“Thank you. I’ll see you next week, then.” Peko closed the door behind her to enter the hallway before reading the note, which repeated Miaya’s words.

 

_ You are not the yakuza. You are you, and you owe nothing to anyone else. Is this what Fuyuhiko’s order meant? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out again to shcherbatskayas for proofreading!
> 
> Don't expect regular updates to this. I'll update as much as I can but I have too much shit on my plate for a consistent schedule.


	3. Chapter 3

Peko sat on a beach, meditating to the cool sound of the waves. The beach itself was nothing more than sand and water, stretching as far as she could see. The sun stood high above, leaving no shadow under her. Peko gazed at the ocean, watching the ebb and flow of the tide, listening closely to her breath.

 

A cry screeched behind her. “Peko!”

 

Peko looked behind her. It was Fuyuhiko, being dragged off by two muscular men in military uniforms with rifles slung on their shoulder. Peko sat up and ran towards the guards, already unsheathing her sword as she rushed towards them.

 

A glass wall materialized in front of her and the world flashed to black.

 

Peko felt around her. She felt the box encasing her, large enough for her to stand but barely wide enough for her to sit. The lights above her faded on slowly, showing a few, then a lot, then a stadium’s potpourri of yakuzas and soldiers. Standing right in front of her was Fuyuhiko’s father, the former oyabun of the clan, with her trainer behind her and two Revolutionary Guards to her side. The whole stadium stood stiffly with stone cold faces lacking any expression and lacking any words.

 

She looked into the oyabun’s eyes - dead silence. Her look turned to his lips, where a sound began to formulate.

 

“Shame.”

 

The people immediately around her followed. “Shame.” The word climbed up the rows, one more, then two more, then four more, climbing up exponentially until the word filled the stadium.

 

“Shame. Shame!”

 

_ Shame. _

 

Peko woke up crying. Miaya’s note fell off the bedpost and out of Peko’s sight.

 

* * *

 

Peko took another look in her notebook, reading the only page with anything written thus far: a list titled “Things I Care About” containing only “Fuyuhiko” and “The Kuzuryuu Clan” both crossed out.

 

_ It’s been three days. The list shouldn’t be this empty. _

 

Peko decided to take a walk outside to think. “Outside” was still fairly limited; for the time being, she was relegated to a Ministry of Health Wellness Center that resembled a nice condominium with a fence. She went out of her room, down the stairs, and into the lobby on the first floor. There, she saw one of the officials on the front desk having a conversation with another man, who had a visitor pass and some hair sticking up on his head.

 

“Good seeing you again. It’s been a while.”

 

“Same goes for you. What have you been up to?”

 

“Oh, you know, just holding down the fort here. A lot of people like you got sent over here since the war ended. How’s the shelter going?”

 

“Pretty alright. Cleaning up shit sucks, but other that that, it’s been a pretty nice change of pace.”

 

_ Shelter? What are they talking about? Should I be concerned? _

 

_ Well, I am lacking ideas right now. Maybe they have something for me to care about; I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about the clan that threw me away, after all. _

 

Peko walked up to the desk. “Is it alright if I join this conversation?”

 

The official looked to the visitor, who nodded in response. 

 

“Sure, don’t see why not. I’m Hajime Hinata, by the way.” Hajime opened his hand towards Peko for a handshake.

 

“Peko Pekoyama,” she replied as she shook his hand.

 

“Stuck here?”

 

“Yes. As for you?”

 

“No, just visiting. I was stuck over here once, too. What got you sent over here?”

 

“I... would prefer not to tell you.”

 

“Fair enough. I don’t like talking about my situation, either.”

 

After a bit, the two awkwardly looked around, but not directly at, each other. The official spoke up. “Do you have any pictures of the animals?”

 

_ Animals? _ Somehow, that piqued Peko’s interest.

 

“Oh yeah! I actually do. Let me pull those up.” Hajime pulled out his phone to get the pictures before angling his phone to show the other two.

 

The first picture was of a black cat on its back, so fluffy that its outline could hardly be seen. “We just got him. Not sure what to call him, though.”  _ Oh god, I want to rub his tummy. _

 

Hajime swept to the next picture, a shiba inu chewing on a bone. “We wanted a European name, so we named her Mathilde.”  _ Good girl. Good girl. _ Peko imagined herself petting Mathilde.

 

Another picture came after that, one of a rabbit with a carrot in its hands. “This is Yoshirou, named after the judge.”  _ Aaaaaaahhh socutesocute Iwanttopetit- _

 

Hajime turned towards Peko while she stared at the photo. “You seem pretty excited there.”

 

As experienced as Peko was in concealing her emotions, she couldn’t help but wince at that. “Oh. I suppose I am.”

 

Hajime chuckled. “I don’t blame you. They’re really fun to pet.” He cleared his throat. “How about we exchange numbers so that I can send you more pictures?” He turned towards the bureaucrat. “Is that allowed, actually?”

 

The bureaucrat flubbed his lips. “I’m not sure. I’d have to dig through some files.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, then. I have to go soon anyways, and I know that the government’s revolutionized red tape. See you both next week, then.” Hajime waved at them as he walked out the door.

 

_ That was nice. Now back to thinking about- wait a second. _

 

Peko ran back up to her room before the bureaucrat could tell her that she shouldn’t run in the hallways. She shut the door, grabbed the journal, opened the page to where she stopped, and rapidly wrote something down.

 

“Domestic Animals.” It was a start.

 

* * *

 

In Tokyo, a young man stepped out of a van wearing a big, burly vest. In front of him was the Museum of the Revolution, a gargantuan museum commissioned by the Republic. The young man walked up the grand staircase in front of the building to face the entrance held up by pillars with the motto, “Democracy & Justice,” bisected by the familiar sun, hammer, and torch.

 

As he walked into the museum, he turned his attention towards an enormous statue of a Revolutionary Guard holding a rifle above his head. An eternal flame was lit in front of the soldier on the statue’s base. Inscribed on the base was the very same motto and emblem just above a commemorative passage.

 

“Hail to the workers in the factories,

 

Hail to the farmers toiling in the fields,

 

Hail to the artists creating beauty,

 

Hail to the soldiers fighting for them all,

 

Hail to the people, long live the Republic!”

 

The young man took a moment to appreciate the passage. A large crowd was gathered in the museum plaza around the statue, as was usual for the museum. The rest of the plaza had a number of stairwells and other entrances leading to various exhibits. Visitors walked in and out of the entrances, following the tour guides in front of them.

 

The young man pulled out a remote with a single button and a wire linked to the vest. He took one last look at the statue.

 

“Long live the Emperor!”

 

He pressed the button. A flash, then a cloud of smoke took the man’s place as shrapnel shredded through the crowd. Panicked screams and sirens wailed throughout the plaza as the crowd fled from the blast zone. Bloodstains fell on the floor from those hit by the vest’s shrapnel, screaming, wailing, or quietly accepting death.

 

The young man saw none of it, heard none of it, and felt none of it. He was one of Amaterasu’s martyrs now.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, in the confines of the Ministry of Health, Peko saw the report of the bombing on the news - twenty-three confirmed deaths. Her mind played out Republican speeches of yakuza butchers slaughtering the country as she saw the report.

 

Like a leech, her worst fear latched itself into her imagination; the Republic further scapegoating the yakuza for the attack as Fuyuhiko is dragged from his cell to be blindfolded and tied to a pole as the barrel of a rifle stared him down.

 

Peko begged her eyes to look away, but they refused to budge. The bullet was thumbed in through the breech of the rifle before the bolt was pushed back in. Another finger moved down from the frame to the trigger.

 

_ Please, please, please. _ The trigger was slowly pushed back.  _ Please, no - _

 

A bang echoed through the room as the rifle launched itself back. Finally, the scene stopped, leaving Peko to stare at the ceiling.

 

_ Please, don’t drag him into this. Please... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you not to expect regular updates. Fuck if I know when the next update will be.
> 
> Thanks again to shcherbatskayas - her feedback has been incredible for this!


	4. Chapter 4

The letter gleamed at Kiyotaka as he sat in his desk. “Mr. Ishimaru, due to your key contributions throughout the yakuza trials, including your role of Chief Prosecutor for the Kuzuryuu clan trials, you have been granted a seat in the Assembly.”

 

Kiyotaka held the letter in his hands, still humbled by those words. He spent the past week moving in to his office and acquainting himself with other Assembly members after his invitation. The morning before, reports of the museum bombing shook the Assembly. Every assemblyman was prepared for a  _ discussion  _ on Resolution 217 - an act to grant the Directory certain emergency powers. These emergency powers included the suspension of habeas corpus, a one-year immunity from a vote of no confidence, and the ability to decree without consulting the Assembly, overturnable by a ⅔ veto of the Assembly. For Ishimaru, this was also his official induction - a small formality in the day’s business.

 

At nine in the morning, the Assembly took their seats. They overlooked all five directors: Tarou Yamamoto, Takeshi Ueno, Suzume Sasaki, Hiroshi Nakahara, and Keiko Inoue. Behind the Directory was the hammer-and-torch, covering most of the wall. To the Assembly’s right sat the speaker, Kichirou Miyamoto. The rest of the Assembly sat in a semicircle around the speaking floor where the Directory sat.

 

Speaker Miyamoto rose up first. “To begin, we shall induct Kiyotaka Ishimaru as an official member of the Assembly. Mr. Ishimaru, please come down.” 

 

Kiyotaka walked down the stairs, facing the Speaker who held a seal of the Republic over his right palm. Kiyotaka placed his left hand over the seal and a fist over his heart.

 

“Please repeat after me. I, state your name… ”

 

“I, Kiyotaka Ishimaru… ”

 

_ …swear to defend and protect the Republic of Japan and her people with all the powers granted to me as a member of the Assembly… _

 

“...and with my life, if I must.” Kiyotaka raised his fist as the Assembly and Directory applauded.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Ishimaru. Please return to your seat.” Kiyotaka walked back up the stairs to his desk and took his seat.

 

“Our next order of business is discussion on Resolution 217. The Directory has come to testify in regards to the aforementioned resolution. Director Yamamoto, you may begin.”

 

“Thank you, Speaker. As you all know, yesterday morning, a bombing conducted by the Imperialists tragically took the lives of twenty-three citizens of the Republic. It is clear that the Empire still has significant support and resources to threaten our Republic…

 

...therefore, in defense of our great revolution, emergency powers are needed by us to effectively counter the Imperialist threat.”

 

“Thank you, Director Yamamoto. We will now begin questioning.” A woman rose from her seat and looked directly into the Speaker’s eyes. “You may speak, Ms. Tomoko Maeda.”

 

“Thank you, Speaker. Director Yamamoto, I have numerous concerns with the grant of powers this bill provides the Directory. I will be extraordinarily blunt; without granting the Directory the suspension of habeas corpus, the ability to decree against the Assembly, or immunity from votes of no confidence, the Republic fought and won a civil war. While the museum bombing was a tragedy, I do not see why we must erode the democratic foundations we wish to build in response to such a relatively miniscule event.”

 

Director Yamamoto spoke up. “With all due respect, Ms. Maeda, it is quite bold of you to say ‘fought and won.’ Do you think that the Empire’s supporters in exile or underground say that they ‘fought’ and ‘lost’? They are still  _ fighting, _ Ms. Maeda, and we must still be fighting too if we don’t wish to grab defeat from victory’s jaws...”

 

* * *

 

“Voting shall now be conducted on Resolution 217. In order to pass, Resolution 217 needs a simple majority vote. On your desks, please press the button corresponding to your desired vote on Resolution 217. Once all assembly members have selected a vote, I will ask if any final statements, changes or other such objections are necessary. If none are, then I will tally the votes in regards to the resolution. Please vote now.”

 

The buttons on Kiyotaka’s desk - “for,” “against,” and “abstain” - lit up on his desk.  _ These emergency powers are a betrayal of the Revolution. I can’t support this in good conscience. _ Kiyotaka pressed “against” and waited for the Speaker to speak.

 

“The votes have been sent. If any final statements, changes, or other such objections are necessary, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Silence. “Then the votes shall be tallied.” Speaker Miyamoto pressed a button on his desk, took a deep breath, and took his gavel before standing.

 

“With a final tally of 192 votes for and 330 votes against, the aforementioned resolution has failed to pass.” The thump of the gavel covered sighs of relief and turned the Directors’ smug smiles into faces of quiet disappointment.

 

Director Yamamoto rose first. “Very well. Long live the Republic.” The five directors all gave raised fist salutes before leaving the Assembly. The last, Director Inoue, shut the door just hard enough to let the Directory’s anger seep through.

 

“Now let us continue with Resolution 210...”

 

* * *

 

Peko sat in the waiting room for therapy, holding on to her notebook and acquainting herself with the small clock, the water machine, the paper cups, the bowl of candy, the clipboards, the brochures, and the empty chairs rather than her assigned bureaucrat. Miaya peeked out from the door as the two got up.

 

“Peko?”

 

Peko nodded and followed Miaya to Room 2, just like last time. Once again, she waited for Miaya to offer a seat before she sat in the beige couch, hands folded and shoulders back across from Miaya.

 

“So, Peko,” Miaya began, “how was this week?”

 

“Alright. I produced the list you asked for.”

 

“Is it okay if I see it?”

 

“Yes.” Peko turned to the list and handed the notebook to Miaya, allowing her to read the crossed-out yakuza stuff as well as “Domestic Animals” followed by a list of various fluffy animals. Meanwhile, a chorus of thoughts sang in her head.

 

_ Are you abandoning Fuyuhiko? _

 

_ I am, but those were his orders. He doesn’t want me anymore. _

 

_ How do you know that he’s ever wanted you? That didn’t end your purpose of being his sword and shield; why would it now?  _

 

_ I… _

 

_ What can you do without him? Where’s your purpose, you traitor? _

 

_ I… I don’t… _

 

“Peko?” Peko snapped back to reality and forced herself to look Miaya in the eyes as she handed back her notebook. “Yes?”

 

“I’m glad you could manage this step. If you don’t mind me asking, how attached do you still feel to the Kuzuryuu clan?”

 

_ How attached? _ “Somewhat.”

 

“Could you elaborate?”

 

“I... had a dream a few nights ago where I failed to protect Fuyuhiko. Even if leaving him was his orders, I still can’t help but think that I’ve failed him. I suppose that’s attachment.”

 

Miaya finished writing and took a moment to think to herself. “It is. Have these thoughts caused you anxiety?”

 

_ Anxiety? What am I, a coward? A sword must be ready to strike at all times. I could never afford to be frozen up by emotions such as anxiety. I’ve already learned to suppress my fear; that can’t be it. _ “Of course not.”

 

“You sound pretty confident saying that. Are you sure?”

 

“I am. I’ve suppressed my fear.”

 

Miaya had that  _ look _ again. “Anxiety isn’t really just fear, though. It’s better to think of it more like that feeling you get when you’re about to be attacked; it’s tension, a lot more than fear. If you don’t mind, let’s go through the physical symptoms that may come from your thoughts. When you have these thoughts, do you feel your muscles tense up?”

 

_ Actually… I kind of do. _ “Yes.”

 

“Fast breathing?” 

 

“Yes, compared to usual.”

 

“Fast heartbeat?” 

 

“I think so; I haven’t paid much attention but I think I can feel it sometimes.”

 

Miaya took a look at the room clock before looking at Peko. “I’m inclined to think these thoughts are causing you anxiety. Could you hand me your notebook? I’d like to write something in there to help you organize your thoughts.” Peko nodded and handed Miaya the notebook. Miaya turned to a new page, wrote in the page, and handed it back to Peko. Peko saw the paper organized into three separate columns for “situation,” “mood,” and “automatic thoughts/images” as well as a set of questions for each column.

 

“Over this week, I would like you to organize your thoughts in your notebook using this format, especially when you’re thinking about the yakuza. I’ll send you a few examples for you to use as a reference. Do you have any questions?”

 

“No, not yet.”

 

“Alright, feel free to send me questions if they come up. Now on to the list I asked you to make last week: from what I saw on the list, I think it would be good for you to seek employment in an animal shelter. What are your thoughts on that?”

 

“I’m a bit worried about my abilities with animals. I… I want fluffiness, but it was one of the sacrifices I made during my time with the yakuza. They tend to run away from me when I approach them. I think they’re afraid of me.”

 

“Well...” Miaya took a moment to think to herself again before continuing. “They are, but it’s not your fault. Most animals are just naturally worried about other things they don’t know. For all they know, the big thing approaching them wants to eat them. Them running away is just their natural instinct.”

 

“Can I be approachable to them, then?”

 

“Yes, and I don’t imagine it’ll be unusually difficult for you. The key is to establish trust; I’d suggest starting by offering them a treat and being gentle with them. They’ll usually open up after some time.”

 

Peko again thought of the animals Hajime showed her a few days ago - Mathilde the dog, Yoshirou the rabbit, and the black cat they haven’t named yet. She really wanted to pet them. “I’ll try, then.”

 

“Wonderful! You do have to go through the Ministry of Health to seek work, though, to ensure you’re mentally healthy enough. I think you’ll be fine, though; I hope it works out for you. See you next week, then. Don’t forget the thought monitoring!”

 

“Thank you, doctor. I’ll be sure to get both done over this week.” Peko headed out to the hallway to find the bureaucrat.

 

_ I thought that I suppressed my emotions. Do I have anxiety? _


	5. Chapter 5

About an hour before dawn, a knock came on the cell door. “Mr. Kuzuryuu?”

 

The knock jolted Fuyuhiko into partial awakeness. “For fuck’s sake, what is it?”

 

Two guards opened the door and walked in. “We have important business with you. We’ll have to blindfold you in addition to handcuffs for this escort. MinSec’s rules.”

 

Fuyuhiko looked at the guards, both holding rifles. After concluding that there was no method to beat them in a fight, he sighed and held his hands out. “Well, shit. This better be really fucking important.”

 

“Don’t you worry; we wouldn’t wake you up if it wasn’t.” The guards handcuffed him, blindfolded him, and guided him through god-knows-where. After numerous turns and a few staircases, Fuyuhiko heard a door open, stepped inside, then heard the door close and lock behind him.

 

The guards removed the blindfold.

 

After his groggy eyes adjusted to the light, Fuyuhiko saw a room,  _ to put it nicely _ , consisting only of a lamp overhead, a desk in the middle, a chair between him and the desk, and another man in a suit and sunglasses sitting behind the desk. The entire setup was enclosed in concrete, including the locked door. The guards stood beside the door.

 

The man on the desk spoke first. “Please, take a seat.”

 

Fuyuhiko sat in the empty chair and folded his hands on his lap.

 

* * *

 

A man sat behind his desk, eating lunch as a pile of paperwork was set to the side. The room, alongside the desk labeled “Arata Kimura”, had a chair in front, a water machine, and a window behind the desk. As he ate, a knock came on the office door. “Mr. Kimura?”

 

“Who is it?”

 

“Kyoko Kirigiri, People’s Investigative Corps.”

 

“Come in.”

 

Kyoko opened the door and stepped in, slowly closing it behind her. She got a cup of water from the water machine, took a sip, and set her cup down on top of the tank, remaining next to the machine.

 

Arata broke the initial silence. “If I may ask, how’s the bombing investigation coming along?”

 

“It’s coming along. Did you get Fuyuhiko on board?”

 

“Afraid not. He rejected the offer.”

 

“Hmm?” Kyoko’s eyes turned to Arata. “Why?”

 

“I don’t know. He didn’t answer when I asked him.”

 

“Well, what did you offer him?”

 

* * *

 

The man in sunglasses drummed his fingers on the desk. “Mr. Kuzuryuu?”

 

“That’s me.”

 

“Arata Kimura. I presume you heard about the recent museum bombing, yes?”

 

“Yes, I did. Tragic, but how the fuck is it my problem?”

 

“It isn’t, to be blunt. However,” Arata sighed, “the Investigative Corps thinks you’re part of the solution.”

 

Fuyuhiko raised an eyebrow. “Why, exactly?”

 

“In short, the bomber probably had links to the yakuza in exile. We don’t have much information on the yakuza since the Imperialists burned it during the civil war. I’m not allowed to tell you much more than that - not yet, at least.”

 

Fuyuhiko paused for a second, soaking in Arata’s words. “The hell do you want me to do, then?”

 

“The PIC wishes for you to be an informant for the investigation of the Museum of the Revolution bombing. In exchange for providing information in good will, we will remove 10 years from your sentence.”

 

Fuyuhiko waited, expecting more, then laughed at Arata’s offer. “That’s it? Do you really think I’m going to a fucking rat for a sentence reduction? Jesus fuck, you guys are insane.”

 

“I don’t know if your wretched conscience cares, but your rejection could be catastrophic for the Republic.”

 

“Good,” Fuyuhiko replied before releasing a snicker. “Let me be frank; you dumbfucks dug yourself into this. We did not have any problems with you until you fucks executed half the Tsumoya clan. No shit we supported the Empire. The Republic has made their damn bed; now they can lay in it.”

 

Arata leaned towards Fuyuhiko with a scowl. “Let me ask you this, then: Why were you a rat during the trials?”

 

“It’s none of your goddamn business, you dried cum stain.”

 

“Fine. Do you have anything else to say?”

 

“I hope the rest of your day is as shitty as this conversation was.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Fuyuhiko stood up, allowing the guards to blindfold him again. The guards walked him out the door and escorted him back to his cell.

 

* * *

 

“Ten years? That’s it?”

 

“Yes. That’s the deal MinSec approved.”

 

Kyoko sighed, then walked to the empty seat in front of Arata’s desk. She pulled the chair back, sat down, faced Arata eye-to-eye, and folded her gloved hands on top of the desk.

 

“Let me be clear. These Imperialist underground organizations will be beaten either by attrition or by cutting off the head. We have nothing on the yakuza other than that the bomber’s financing likely came from exiles. Everything else we had on them was either burnt, shot, or exiled.”

 

“Of course. That was the Ministry’s offer, though, and it wasn’t enough to get Fuyuhiko on board.”

 

“Then tell the Ministry to offer Fuyuhiko as much as necessary to get his support - no less - unless they want to play whack-a-mole with Imperialist remnants for the next decade.” Kyoko stood up, still facing Arata. “Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes. I’ll do what I can.”

 

“Good. I hope you don’t receive another rejection, then.” Kyoko, despite her anger, walked calmly out of Arata’s office.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Arata muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

Fuyuhiko walked to his group’s table in the cafeteria with a plate of breakfast in his hand and bags under his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” Natsumi chirped. “Did the boss baby miss his nap?”

 

“Shut your damn mouth.” Fuyuhiko slammed himself onto the bench.

 

Natsumi refused to shut her damn mouth. “Were you busy jerking your sausage to-”

 

“If you don’t stop right this fucking second,” Fuyuhiko interrupted, “I will kill you and then let the guards blow my brains out so that I can kill you again in hell.”

 

“Fine. No fun allowed, I guess.”

 

The group ate in silence for about a minute. Mondo spoke up afterwards.

 

“Anyways, why didn’t you get enough sleep?”

 

“The guards woke me up early for some stupid ass deal.”

 

“Deal? Are you bribing the guards?”

 

“Ha. If I was bribing them, I’d bribe them to let me fucking sleep. MinSec wanted me to rat out exiles for less prison time. I told them to shove it; I’m not going to rat for fucking nothing.”

 

“Wait,” Kazuichi asked, “why didn’t you tell them to shove it during the trials?”

 

“The situations were night and day, Kaz. Even then, I’m not sure if it was right to do it then.”  _ This conversation better end here, or else- _

 

“I don’t think it was night and day,” Kazuichi continued. “Maybe like dawn and afternoon, but I’m not sure how it’s that different.”

 

Seeing Fuyuhiko seethe throughout Kazuichi’s statement, Ryoma continued for him. “The difference is what Fuyuhiko stood to lose. During the trials, not ratting likely meant his life. This time, it only means ten more years. Am I right, Fuyuhiko?”

 

“Sure,” Fuyuhiko replied, “and just for today, the more speaking you do on my behalf, the better. I’m too fucking tired for this shit.”

 

“Fair enough, but I’m not making any promises. I’m guessing you’re going to grab a nap the first chance you get.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

The group continued their breakfast, moving their conversation to more mundane subjects. After they finished, they went their own ways for the day.


End file.
